*Update* (and "Through The Eyes of Tristan Cannon")

So I'm totally stumped...last week (or two weeks ago actually)I mentioned for you all to give me suggestions/topics to write about...however, there were no suggestions from you my readers! So until my school work lightens up a bit (or I'm more motivated) some writings being posted may look familiar (because they've been written already!). Maybe I'll start working on an idea that's been swimming around in my head since I first started writing about five-six years ago, but I need a beginning and beginnings are hard to start. So in the meantime here's the beginning to an epic poem I had to do for homework in my British Literature I class this semester. And please remember-comments, suggestions, corrections, and topics are all welcomed!

Peace and Love (I want a catch phrase for here...need to think of one that's more me!)

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Author's Note: I can't figure out how to indent on here so lines that are lowercase are suppose to be since they are actually suppose to be indented! If anyone knows how let me know!

Through the eyes of Tristan Cannon

The Mother is falling into a sleep,
her colors dull away and wash into a
disgusting mixture of life.
He tries to save her-to break the bearer
between the lowly plane and
Apollo's inflamed home.
To show those who cut into her vibrance
the terrible tremors tracking through
her rooted veins.
"Her soul sinks, it shakes
It cracks apart like a man's marrow;
scraping slowly against her breast bone."
Mother is exposed-her bodice ripped from her,
her hair the only garment around her sickly form.
Inhale Tristan Cannon and take up your blackened barrel.
Show humanity and provide their humility-
humble their hardened hearts.
Flash forward and capture man's monstrous motions.
Make men regret their wrongful ways.
Allow contrast between the colors and grays-
brighter, boulder, louder hues.
Lines should be darker, starker, slashed-
eye intoxicating.
Through Tristan's stilled panels
the lines from Adam take note of their
selfish, driven ways.
Mother's lofty living quarters have turned gray, gritty.
Her fibered carpets crushed continuously from crowded footfalls.
Her organic art has been hacked and hammered,
hastened away-taken from her house.
Mother's natural children;
her webbed, furry, winged, scaly, and aquatic offspring
Shy away-their homes and beds
snatched from their once safe rooms
of leafy handsomeness and pristine waters.
The emerald and sapphire blankets change
to cloudy echos of astonishing brilliance.
Gardens once full of bright technicolor beds
break down to natural brunette roots.
Mother is tired-
how can she keep up her once magnificent splendor?
"She's slipping away..."
Tristan's concern for her is apparent,
he strives to show the realities of her wounds.
To unveil Mother's anguish and uncover the earthlings blinded eyes.

Something Old(ish)

It's only week 3 and I'm already behind! I have two major papers to work on that are due Wednesday so I haven't been able to work on anything new for this. So here's something old! The piece isn't that old-only from 2009. It's a work from my Creative Writing I class that I took my second year in college. The prompt came from our book and we had to describe how we would react in this situation. Hope you like it and again, I'm sorry for nothing new.

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The weather man did call for high winds for tonight, that’s why the scratching could be heard. It was the branches of the old oak tree next to my bedroom window. I really should call one of my brothers over to trim them back for me. It was an awful sound-the harsh, hissing scratch of wood against a glass pane. But the noise of running water from my shower was able to drown it out some.

I really needed this shower. It was my therapeutic time for me to rewind and hit the pause button for twenty minutes. The warm water and steam aided with the scent of my shampoo really helped me release my mind and worries with the knots that had formed in my back as the day had progressed.

That’s when I heard the crash.

The warm water no longer relaxed but rather pierced my skin with scalding knives-glass had been broken. I turned the water off as quickly as I could with my wet fingers and rushed out of the shower stall, grabbing my gym shorts and old tee shirt as I hurried to the door to lock it. Standing there, locked in my own bathroom, I looked around for something to defend myself with. I had my flatiron on, it was already hot. I grasped that while I tried to find the cord to my curling iron that would heat up quickly-safer to have two scolding items then one.

I heard stumbling. My heart raced-I was beginning to panic. My shirt and shorts stuck to the skin of my thighs and back. I heard muffled footsteps. My hands tightened turning my knuckles white.

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I just came up with an idea. For anyone who wants to give me an idea to write about-create a prompt for me :) I'll go through and pick one to focus on for next week!

Pud Gra Pow Takeout

Here are a few things you need to know.

1-My writings for now will most likely be inconsistent to one another (they won’t build off of each other).

B-If there is a prompt or word of the day it will be given at the beginning or the end of the post.

C-I constantly change p.o.v. (point of view) in my stories so if I do feel free to let me know so I can fix it (and anything else you can think of-I may not use it but all will be considered!). This is a big thing I need to work on.

And 4-Thank you again for reading :)

Prompt:

“He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw…”

…nothing. Nothing had changed. Geoffrey turned on the light to the foyer and stepped in. Everything was so different now. Pictures were gone or smashed through. The big screen TV that Cheryl had gotten him was gone. Most of the furniture went with her. Geoffrey had left the apartment like this for two weeks. It was painful to look at the emptiness but he figured it would be harder to mask over it.

It wasn’t like painting a wall-he knew that a new couch would mean that Cheryl left.

Dropping his backpack on the floor and slumping out of his coat Geoffrey moved further into the hollow home making his way towards the kitchen. Cheryl had left him two of everything in here. Two bowls, two plates, two glasses, two mugs, and two sets of cutlery. All of it was dirty but Geoffrey didn’t care about that.

He didn’t care about much of anything these days. His goldfish laid belly up in a bowl of green algae. His clothes were wrinkled and unwashed, his hair was a greasy mop that hung into his glazed eyes, and on his jaw line grew a patch of stubble. Sighing Geoffrey opened the fridge. All that was in there was an apple, half a jug of milk, some coffee creamer, and some questionable lunchmeat. “No food here…” he murmured to himself. Shutting the door Geoffrey moved over to the counter, there a stack of takeout menus laid something that had grown in size over the past days. “Thai food tonight.”

After calling in his order Geoffrey slumped onto the whicker chair in the middle of the living room. “Twenty minutes,” he breathed out, rubbing his hands over tired eyes. All this quiet caused Geoffrey to remember the day he first came home and the apartment was in such an empty state. He had found a note taped to the bathroom mirror.

Geoff,

Things just aren’t the same anymore. I’m sorry. But I’m not happy anymore-not with you. We’ve just been together for so long it feels as if we know everything about one another. We’re just really good roommates now. I need space.

Cheryl

It was so informal. At first Geoffrey had been hurt by the lack of compassion, now he couldn’t stop seeing the words cross before his vision every time he closed his eyes. They haunted his dreams, turning him into a shell of a man.

Geoffrey cried the first night. Cheryl leaving was a shock. They had been together for a few years; they were considering starting a family a month before she left. He didn’t understand how she could leave him.

He never really got an answer from her. Geoffrey called thirteen times during the day for the first week. He tried Cheryl’s cellular and office numbers. He left messages, emails, and texts asking to meet up. Geoffrey needed to fully understand why she just left. It drove him mad, waiting and hoping that every ring of his phone was her.

Ding dong

“Osha Thai Takeout for Geoffrey Morris”

Lurching forward Geoffrey made his way, pulling out his billfold before opening the door. He squinted his eyes a little. It was dark outside now but the flood lights in front of each apartment door was on-the fluorescents caused his vision to blur and his eyes to ache from the false intensity.

“That be 20.93”

Geoffrey handed the small man in front of him a twenty and a five rumbling “keep the change,” before shutting the door again.

Shuffling to the bedroom Geoffrey began taking out his Pud Gra Pow and dropped the lid on the ground. Cheryl never like Thai food, she said it was too spicy, though Geoffrey. There was a lot Cheryl didn’t like…scented candles, tea, the aftershave my mother bought me, shaving cream. Hmph, Geoffrey smiled a little, the corners of his Thai filled mouth turning up. She didn’t like that one picture frame, the one Kelley had given us...she hated taking pictures.” He said to the footboard at the bottom of his bed, his voice getting harsher. “She didn’t like going out just to go out. She didn’t like it when I’d want to hold her just because.” Geoffrey paused, the food now forgotten, and a new melancholy passion emerged. “I should’ve known…she hated it here. With me.”

Throwing the takeout container away from him Geoffrey sprang up and started grabbing clothes and shoving them into his backpack. The rent was still in his name but Cheryl was second, if the landlord couldn’t reach him they could reach Cheryl.

Time for a change. Time for comfort. “Let everyone else sort things out for a change,” Geoffrey said as he grabbed his keys and phone punching in a series of numbers. “I’m on my way to visit. My phone is almost dead. See you soon.” Geoffrey went to the door again, opening it and tossing his phone back in he shut the door, turning the deadbolt back into its slot. He needed to get cleansed away from here, away from a place filled with such a murky and dank past. Away from broken frames, two sets of everything, from whicker chairs, and listening footboards. Geoffrey needed his roots back and his smile. He needed phone calls with answering people and food that didn’t come in Styrofoam containers. He needed someone who would hold him just because.

A.N.: I’m not to sure about the ending. It seemed a little rushed. Comments are appreciated :)

Something New

This is something that, from people's influence, I have decided to try. But I plan on doing it differently. For starters-I'm not to sure how much of my personal life I can post here. I'm not comfortable with that just yet but maybe it'll change. My main objective is just to write! Hopefully every weekend there will be something new-something that's all my own. Something that I have worked on.

So there...that's it. My idea for this blog.

I will give some information as to why I decided to start this written adventure. It all started when Sabrina (I'm going to use aliases here, a way for me to protect their privacy. Those who are mentioned should know who they are) had me read some of her stories and I realized I could do that. Thanks Sabrina.

Then Dee Ann and Julian started to write a blog (mostly about themselves and their thoughts) over the past year and again, I thought that I could do that. But they are so much braver than me-they're posting their life whereas I'm creating a fictional escape (that may change at a time in the future). It's still just as hard I think. "These words are my own!" (Even those really aren't! Ha!) And I'm making myself vulnerable to my readers and followers in a different sort of way.

Next are my parents! Something that six or seven years ago I would have never wanted to admit. Things have changed since then-I've started to grow up! My dad was over a last weekend and was talking about how I could do this. Write a blog sort of like Julie Powell did when she moved through Julia Child's cookbook. I could write about a certain thing and create a possible career for myself, start something new. I thought about it some after he left but nothing came to me...until now. My mom is what really spurred me into just hoisting up my skirts and start running frantically into the mud. We had been talking about a quiz I had taken in a class that I always had trouble in (the grade was the best I have EVER gotten!). She Said "...you're a smart girl and you can do this." This is something that I'll always remember, and even though our conversation had nothing to do with me starting this blog I believe that it resonates through out my present and future endeavors.

So thank-you to everyone who has inspired me and encouraged me. You're the reasons why I'm going to make this an actual effort!